No Vacancy at 221c: A BBC Sherlock Fanfic

Not So Lucky Cat

Where am I?

Celestia struggled to open her bleary eyes. Her back was sore and leaning up against something hard and rough. She shivered as her hands groped around in her jacket pocket, coming to grasp her phone that was surprisingly still there. Pressing the power button sent a bright light shining against Celeste's eyes, causing her to squint.

10:26 AM, December 29th

Finally as her tired pupils adjusted to the bright light, the confused woman was able to take in her surroundings. Fighting a panic, she scrambled clumsily to her feet. She had been slumped against the wall of an alleyway. Not a scary, sketchy kind of place, but a shallow hollow between buildings. No one was around. Celestia's neck cracked painfully as she turned, protesting the uncomfortable position. Thinking back to the last thing she could remember, Celeste recalled leaving the flat to pick up some milk or tea or some other random necessity. But that had been the 28th.

It had been three days since the Christmas murder. Sherlock had analyzed the body down to the bone, memorizing the case inside and out. He had facts, he had evidence, but no murderer and, more importantly, no motive. The detective had been in his mind palace since the moment Celeste had seen him that morning, so she didn't see the point of hanging around Baker Street. Sherlock was always complaining about not having things anyway.

But now here she was, a whole day later, stuck in an alley who knows where! In a daze, Celeste frantically reached into her jacket for the wad of cash she had stored in her pocket and moved her limbs. Nothing was missing, and she was perfectly fine. Not a scratch. Her head was pounding and foggy, but other than an obvious drugging she knew nothing of what, who, or even why.

Quickly she made her way towards the street, fumbling with her phone as she went. The call was picked up almost instantaneously. A moment of silence ensued, almost as if the answerer could hardly believe this was happening. "H-hello?" Celeste called hesitantly in response to the silence.

A huge sigh could be heard on the other end. "It's really you!" John Watson greeted her. A thud and the sound of the phone switching hands reached her ears.

"Say something," Sherlock commanded, his deep voice comforting in her ears.

"Sherlock, I don't know where I am and I don't know how I got here and my head is killing me and I just wanna come home!" she rambled, ignoring his words, just relieved and tired and confused.

"It is you... Where on earth are you?!" He could be heard calling John in the background.

Celestia looked around at the street she had emerged onto. Signs with Chinese symbols were hanging beside English banners. One particular store front caught her attention. "There's this store called the Lucky Cat."

"The Lucky Cat?" Sherlock confirmed, an odd tone in his voice.

"Yeah, that's what it says," replied Celestia shakily. She tried to remain calm, but she had the sort of unreasonable demeanor that one might have when sleep deprived or that a child might take on when separated from it's parents. There was a pause. "Don't hang up," she finally requested.

"It's been twelve hours since I last knew if you were even alive, you think I'm going to let go now?" His words gave her comfort, breathing life into her fuzzy mind. "Just go inside, pretend like you're interested in their wide selection of little fat Buddhas, and I'll be there as soon as this bloody cab can exceed ten miles an hour."

Celeste laughed lightly and made her way into the small shop, greeting the shopkeeper with a nod and turning to a shelf of random knickknacks with phone in hand. "Now I want you to tell me absolutely everything that has happened and the last place you were precisely."

She took a deep breath, scouring her brain for any recollections. "I was just on the way to that little corner store to get tea or something. I was probably at least half way there I'd say. I called you just minutes after I woke up and found myself in an alley beside this store."

"Anything stolen? Are you physically harmed?" Now he was beginning to sound like the interrogator she knew he could be.

"No, I'm fine. My money's here and so is my phone; I wasn't carrying much else."

"Was there any message?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you first went missing I suspected Sebastian had gotten a hold of you, or one of his associates. So then it would be logical to assume if this were the truth that this would be used to communicate a point, and possibly deliver another of those riddles," Sherlock explained.

Celestia shuddered as the thought passed through her mind. Maybe she should be more careful. "So John's with you, right?" she asked, changing the subject.

She heard the phone switch hands."That's right, someone's got to keep you two alive."

Celestia smiled, "Did he manage to make you feel guilty enough to help?"

John chuckled, "No, Mary's been invited to a friend's out in the country, big manor and all. She thought it would be good for me to stay with Sherlock for the week, and I'm starting to think that I may be needed."

"I believe that's a great idea, John." She whispered the next part, "I honestly don't know how to help him like you do; I'm not even sure if he hears me half the time."

John hesitated as if unsure if he should say something. "We can talk more when this is all sorted out and you're safe at home, but I'll tell you one thing. I'm pretty sure he hears everything you say, so I'd be careful," he settled on. Celeste could hear the smirk in his voice, but he was still sincere.

"You know what? I think I'll be alright until you get here. Tell Sherlock I love him, okay?"

John stared at Sherlock's phone as the call ended abruptly. He smiled slowly and turned to Sherlock, who had overheard her comment. The sociopath was suppressing a smile and blushing slightly in response to John's questioning look.